


bit by bit and piece by piece

by jadeddiva



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeddiva/pseuds/jadeddiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the captain’s quarters in 3x08; or, how the captain’s quarter goes from stark austerity to comfortable lushness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

It is a blur in the hours after Liam’s death, minutes rushing past from when Killian explains the situation to the crew to when they dressed the body and he declares mutiny.  They all followed him – even if he’s taken their rum and chastised them for their bad form.  He thinks, at first, that they might want more adventure than the royal navy would give them and that this is a conveniently-timed mutiny for their sakes.  That can be the only reason that they have followed him.

Killian will learn new truths about himself in the coming days, truths that the men have seen before him: he will learn more about his own sense of loyalty and what it means to be a captain, but he will also learn how grateful he is to those men for trusting in him to begin with.

As darkness falls, the watches are set and he is about to head below deck when his first mate, a man named Smith, informs him that he has the Captain’s quarters now, “no need to be sleeping with the men, sir”.

Killian nods and excuses himself.  He will take whatever meager belongings he has from his bunk tomorrow.

Tonight, he will sleep in the Captain’s quarters.

The room is still Liam’s, even though he is now the captain, and he feels like a stranger in this place that was his brother’s.  It should make him feel better – should appease him that this is not a strange man’s quarters but that of his ~~only~~ ~~last~~  kin and that Liam would insist that what’s his was also Killian’s, for that what brothers do.  They share.  And they take care of each other.

And Killian is not sure that he did much of either for Liam.  It is this room that makes him feel regret deep in his chest, deep throbs of pain that makes him wonder what he did that made Liam trust him so greatly, if he ever thanked his brother as much as he deserved.

He does not sleep in Liam’s modest bed (far better than the bunk he’s slept in for most of his adult life) but spends the night staring out the windows, wondering what new course they will set for themselves in the morning.

There is a red sky that night and it is this omen that makes him feel as if perhaps he is not as ill-advised in his decision-making as he may have feared.

...

Killian will learn new truths about himself in the coming months, the least of which is that he is every bit as capable a leader as Liam always thought, and he leads his men to prosperity rather quickly.

Of course, it is relatively easy to be prosperous when you are a pirate was a crew made up of former military men.

He still runs a tight ship but rum becomes good form, as does thievery (from others, never from themselves, that is bad form).  They are still as good as seamen as they ever were and the rigor of the ship stays it’s course, because there is one thing that every man on a ship would agree with and that is the ship before all else.

Killian does not fuss when the men bring whores or wives or whoever they bring back from the docks, and he slowly begins to drink with them, finding an easy camaraderie.   Pieces of him are chipped away, revealing that beneath the military austerity there is a man who enjoys a good conversation, a good drink, or a good fuck just as much as the next (or course, the first two are often easier to find than the last, because Killian is also learning that he is actually quite discriminating in his taste in women and most of the painted whores available at foreign ports do little to pique his interest).

It is in one of those foreign ports, painted women flashing their wares, where he wanders through a small bazaar.  There is a woven blanket that catches his eye – dark red with a floral pattern.  The merchant asks far too much for it but Killian cannot refuse him, brushing his fingers against the blanket to find it softer than anything he has ever felt.

“Looking for something to warm ya, love?” a whore asks as he rounds the corner, blanket in hand.

“Already found it,” he tells her with a saucy wink.  She curses and spits at him but he ignores her.  He’s never bought himself anything extravagant before, has only just started dressing in black leather, and he is buoyant at the prospect that _this is now his life_ and that he can afford such luxuries.

The life of a pirate sits well with Killian Jones, just as the life of a captain is something he is more than ready for.

...

They make port in a small town known for its woolen trade and while he sends half the crew to barter for provisions, Killian himself takes the other half to an alehouse where they drink the night away in the company of outrageously beautiful women.

One, named Milah, keeps pace with the pirates as they down their ale.  She listens to their stories with eagerness, and he finds himself intrigued by her bright blue eyes and her dark hair.  She is very different from the painted whores he’s seen lately, and it has been a long enough time that he would like very much for her to accompany him back to his quarters to spend the night.

Before he can ask, a crippled man with a small boy come to collect her, and Milah finishes her drink and goes, shooting a look of apology from over her shoulder.

He knows he should be bothered by the woman – clearly a mother and a wife – drinking with them, but that was a different time and he finds himself more intrigued than anything else.

It is not surprising to him that she seeks him out before they leave.

“I want to go with you,” she tells him.  She is not meek when she says these words, not humbled by her position.  Her eyes shine in the morning sun and he is struck dumb.

“You have a son and a husband,” he tells Milah, who does not sigh and look away.

“I have a son and a coward for a husband.  I would bring the boy but not the man.  I want more than he can offer me,” she says.  “I want adventure.  I want you.”

Her confession is tempting and so he lets her aboard, sheltering her in his cabin and lying when her husband comes begging ( _begging?)_ for her. 

“You may be better off without him,” he says to Milah when he enters his cabin that night, finding her seated at the table.

“I know that I am better off with you,” she responds, reaching for him to kiss him.

He has known more women than Milah has known men but she is far better than the painted whores in that she knows exactly what she wants and is comfortable telling him with sighs and words just how to make her happy, and he is more than willing to spend most of the night and well into the next morning doing just that.  When he emerges from between her thighs he is a man in love.

Milah is different.  Her enthusiasm is contagious, and the crew welcome her instantly.   When she smiles, it brings everything into sharp focus.  Food tastes better, songs are clearer, every kiss or touch sets his blood to boil.  She becomes his everything, his constant companion, more than willing to outdrink him at a tavern or test his stamina in their lovemaking.

Milah brings nothing with her, but she acquires things during their travels which she hides at first until Killian catches her tucking something away in an alcove of his quarters.

“What’s mine is yours,” he tells her, holding her hands over his chest.  “Do not hide your trinkets and finery in your own quarters.”

Soon, there are new pillows on his humble bed, and they acquire things together – blankets and articles of clothing, paintings and other finery that feel far too rich and far too indulgent but which make their quarters a home for both of them.

He has never been happier.

...

All happiness comes with a price.

The crocodile takes it, first with Milah’s heart, then with Killian’s hand.

And so he wanders in Neverland, lost in his grief, sleeping in sheets once chosen by Milah and now a constant, aching reminder of what he has lost and what he might not find ever again.

Killian wonders if perhaps he has gone a little mad.


	2. two

In Neverland, it is so very possible to lose one year in the blink of an eye, a decade in the span of an hour, and one hundred years with a good night’s sleep.

(Granted, that would mean that Killian slept to begin with, what with the cries of the Lost Boys and Pan’s inconsistent treachery that keep them up at night, uneasy and alert, but the years still pass faster than he expected.)

He spends his time in Neverland plotting revenge and mourning Milah.   He packs her possessions away in a small chest and stores it in the back of a cabinet.  He truly despises that Milah’s life can be reduced to clothing and trinkets and it only makes revenge burn brighter in his veins.

Over the course of their stay, while they wait for Pan to change his devious mind and let them leave, the nights start to last longer and he has more time to spend not sleeping.  He spends those nights sitting on the bed they once shared, small chest open, fingers brushing against the clothing she once wore and the baubles she valued.

It’s all he has left of the woman he loves, and it will never be enough.

By the time they are allowed to leave Neverland, he is not at all surprised to find that the thought of Milah doesn’t burn as fiercely anymore, and that while he still wants his revenge, he has forgotten the color of her eyes and the taste of her lips.  He cannot even remember the feel of her skin underneath his ~~hands~~  hand.

It is that thought that pushes him forward, pushes him to accept first Regina’s and then Cora’s entreaties to help them so that he can kill his crocodile.

And then, he thinks, perhaps he will find rest.

…

Emma Swan is unlike anything anyone he has ever met before, even if she bests him more times than he cares to count.

He learns, quickly, that she is the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, though the names are meaningless since he should be long dead and to him, they are just another in the litany of rulers of the kingdoms that make up the Enchanted Forest. The only sway they told is that they are the ones that sparked the curse that stole an additional twenty-eight years of his life (and twenty-eight years of his revenge).

They are meaningless to him.  Their daughter, however is something else entirely.

Killian has never met a woman more broken than he thought he was.  She is all sharp edges and distrustful glances, and his innuendos and sly remarks do nothing to wear down her walls and gain her trust.  He changes tactics more times than he’d like to count, because he is a sailor above all else and he knows how to read stormy waters.  There is nothing that he can do to convince her of his worth, and he is surprised how greatly that upsets him.

It doesn’t stop him from trying, though.

If Milah brought things into sharp focus, Emma magnifies them so much that he is forced to slow his movements and his words, consider his actions and their consequences.  For the first time in nearly three hundred years, Killian considers other people outside of himself, and he finds that it is not an uncomfortable prospect.

In fact, it makes him feel better about himself than anything or anyone has in a long time.

It makes him think of Liam, and the man he would have wanted Killian to be.

...

He is still able to carry out his revenge, even if he’s lost a bit of his bluster and even if he doesn’t kill the crocodile in the end.   Killian hurts him, sure, and makes the crocodile fear his life and the life of his love, but he does not kill him.

He thinks Milah would have wanted it like that – or maybe not, his memory is growing spotty in all the years that have passed since her death.  Despite becoming a pirate, she abhorred violence and thought valor could be found through good deeds and good actions.  Violence, to oneself or others, was cowardly to her. Killian wonders what she would think about his quest for revenge, and wonders if he may have made things worse in the prospect.

His quarters are dark, for it is night in Storybrooke, and he finds he is not tired.  Being taken care of in the ‘hospital’ for his wounds meant that he has rested more than he is used to, and there is a restless energy that finds him pacing the cabin while deciding what his next move will be.

Killian desperately wants it to involve Emma, though he is not sure that he should taint someone like her with his own darkness.

It hits him, suddenly, when he is about to sail away from Storybrooke, that he might care for her – that she, as the Savior, might be the redemption that he so desperately needs.  Perhaps he has not destroyed himself after all.

When he offers his ship on the dock, he is careful to not think of it in terms of redemption, but rather in terms of love.  He cares for her, to what extent he doesn’t know, and he will not allow his thoughts about Emma to become the tool with which he will use to save himself.  So many of his memories of Milah are tainted with the darkness of revenge, and he can barely remember the good things that should give him strength.

He cannot let Emma become the same to him, so he keeps his thoughts hidden deep in his heart and lets the crocodile board his ship.  He takes them back to Neverland, where he swore he would never return.  He helps them find her son.

...

Killian tries, harder than he has in years, to be a good man.

He finds it comes easier than he thought.

(Perhaps Liam would be proud).

And then his happiness is there, dangling in front of him on a thin rope of hope, offered by the demon Pan himself.

_Leave and take Emma with you._

_Her lost love is alive, and you are the only one that knows._

He remembers their desperate kiss, the way that her hands fisted in his jacket and his hand tangled in her hair, remember the way that their bodies moved, the heavy-lidded glance she gave him when she pulled away.

It is so tempting to think about leaving with her, having her with him always on the _Jolly Roger_ as they sail the oceans of the world, seeing her in his bed (thoughts of her wrapped up in his sheets come too often these days for someone who is supposed to be thinking of others first), being by his side.

He does the opposite of what they all expect.

Their surprise is always new and yet frustrating.

Perhaps he will always be a pirate, Killian thinks, but at least he will have done something right (and if he imagines the softening in Emma’s gaze when she looks at him, then it’s his to imagine.  He will win her heart but he will not steal her from her family.  He has seen first-hand that scars that act leaves behind).

And when she saves Henry, and as they head back to Storybrooke, even though he gives his cabin to the young man, the lad still chooses to sit on the deck with his family.

Killian takes the opportunity to duck below-deck, to his quarters.

He rests his palms on the large table (Liam’s) that takes up most of the space, looks at the books (his own) that line the windowsill, the blanket (his) and pillows (Milah’s) that occupy his bed.  He is tired through and through, exhaustion desperately seeping through his bones, and with David at the helm he feels like he can take a moment and close his eyes, take a deep breath, and gather his thoughts.

Of course it is never that easy.

There is only one person who would seek him out when he has deliberately chosen to step away, so when he opens his eyes to meet Emma’s gaze, it is exactly as he expected.

“Come to see my quarters, love?” he asks, flirting with danger as she shakes her head, small smile on her lips (he desperately wants to kiss her again.  He always wants to kiss her again.  She is his new drink of choice).

“You certainly think highly of yourself,” Emma says, fingers brushing against the blanket that he bought so many years ago in that foreign bazaar.  She turns to him, face sincere, eyes burning bright.

“I did it,” she says softly. 

“I never doubted you for a moment,” Killian tells her.

“You didn’t,” Emma says, taking a step closer.  “You never doubted me.  You always believed.”

“Are you surprised?” he asks, feeling as if he is constantly repeating the same refrain.  Emma shakes her head.

“No,” she says.  “I’m not.”

That is when she kisses him. 

It is different than their earlier kiss – sweeter, if possible, and softer.  There is none of the restless energy that marked their earlier encounter.  She cups his face between her hands and he rests his own trembling hand against her hip, letting her set the pace.  She moves closer, thumbs stroking his cheekbones, tongue tangling with his own. He moves his hand to her back, wanting to draw her closer, wanting to feel every inch of her body pressed against his own.

He has never wanted anything more in his life.

And yet he stops, and she stops, and when she steps back her eyes are lidded and her pupils wide.

It is a very appealing look on her, and he wants to tell her as much, but he is trying to catch his breath and he is suddenly aware of all the people on board, all of the lost boys and her _parents_ and the crocodile and the evil queen and her _son_ and her former _lover_ ( _Milah’s son)_ and he shakes his head, bringing his hand to rub at his eyes.

“One time thing, eh love?” he asks, and she snorts.  He opens his eyes to her running her hand through her hair and looking at him with a look he can’t describe but might take to mean she’s warming up to him.

“I’ll see you up there,” Emma says, turning to the ladder (and if she is deliberately going up slow and easy so that he can get a good look at her, then Killian’s not complaining).

He takes a deep breath, and smiles wide.  For the first time in so many years, happiness is growing inside of him.  He feels free and easy, and utterly at peace.

He glances at the bed on his way up the ladder, and promises himself that he will sleep very soon (and hopefully not alone).

 

 


End file.
